An All-American Summer
by Kat1126
Summary: Only 19 and unable to care for them over the summer, America decides to send his 50 adopted kids, the states, to summer camp. With a ragtag group of nations who owed him favors as the counselors, what could possibly go wrong? The answer is everything. [Contains lots of OCs.]
1. Chapter 1

America sighed, gaze fixed on the closed doors of his study. Massaging his temple with one hand, he half-listened to the argumentative murmurs of children outside the door. He didn't know what to do with them; now that school was out, they'd be running insanely about the house, breaking his best antiques, knocking over his sports display cases. Maybe he was clumsy, but he really cared about that stuff.

It's not like America had asked for 50 kids, he was only 19, after all. After Delaware, they had just shown up at his doorstep, and he hadn't had the heart to turn them away. They piled up until he had more kids than he could handle.

At least during the year they had gone to boarding school, but now they were home for the summer. He knew no other nation in their right mind would take the states, and he wouldn't be able to handle them without help, which was something he couldn't get.

What did normal kids do during the summer, anyway? He tried to remember. Sports, swimming, arts and crafts… suddenly, it came to him.

"Summer camp!" He cried out loud. The murmurs outside the door hushed. Excitedly, America opened his laptop to Google and began researching. He found camps just for boys and just for girls, but that wouldn't really help—they were a mixed bunch. After fifteen minutes of Googling, he sighed. No camp would take all of them without it seeming suspicious. He'd just need to make his own.

An hour and quite a few phone calls later, he'd found a camp going out of business, eager to sell off their land to him. After conversing with the owner about a reasonable price, the land and cabins were all his for the taking.

Pleased with himself for coming up with this solution, he threw the doors open wide, where the sea of children stood in hushed silence, 100 eyes looking at him expectantly.

"Listen up, brochachos!" he announced, causing Maine, a tall girl near the back, to roll her eyes. He shot her a sharp glare before continuing. "Guess where you little dudes'll be spending the summer?"

The sea remained silent.

"Summer camp!" he cried, an oversized grin plastered to his face.

The silence persisted. America's smile faltered slightly. "Aren't you guys excited?"

"What kind of summer camp, exactly?" a lanky boy in front asked, his voice reluctantly dipping into a slight British accent. Yep, that was Massachusetts.

"Oh, all kinds of things'll be there!" America cried, continuing his happy-go-lucky salesman routine. "Sports, arts, music… the list could go on forever, dude!"

Maine spoke up from the back of the room. "Where is this camp, anyway?"

The man laughed. "Actually, Maine, it's on your home turf. I've got some favors to call in in regard of counselors, so while I do that, you guys should get packing!"

The mob dissolved as the states parted and moved towards their respective (and rarely used) bedrooms, where they dumped the contents of their school suitcases out and heaped summer garments in.

Meanwhile, America returned to his study, lifting the phone receiver to his ear and calling in numerous favors.

"Remember when I did this for you…"

"Hey, you never paid me back for this…"

After too much talking and a lot of arguing, he had assembled a ragtag team of counselors from his fellow nations, all with varying degrees of reluctancy. Tomorrow, he'd have peace and quiet for the rest of the summer.

But for now, peace and quiet would have to wait.

"Daaaaaaaad!" a girl yelled as her golden braids rippled behind her, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Her thick hiking boots clomped on the hardwood floor as she ran. "Cali's being mean agaaaain!"

America sighed. "What is it, Oregon?"

"California said no one knows who I am, and no one notices me! She says people see her more, and I'm just like Uncle Mattie!" she said breathlessly.

He shot an exasperated look at the state in question, who leaned in the doorway, studying her fingernails with a bored look on her face.

"Cali."

"Hm," she grunted, without looking up from her nails.

"Apologize to your sister."

California sighed dramatically, tossing her movie star blonde hair over her shoulder. "Sorry."

Oregon, who still looked on the verge of tears, smiled gratefully at him before running out.

America leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

"Alright, little dudes, rise and shine!" America yelled as he traversed the halls of the large house. "Time to go!"

The kids grumbled as they assembled their bags and filed out the front door, where a yellow school bus waited for them in the cul de sac. America noticed one girl with an oddly shaped bag, who cast wary glances over her shoulder every few moments.

"Florida…?" he said.

She stopped dead in her tracks. "Hmm?"

"What's in the bag?"

"U-uh…" she stammered, casting wild glances around the room. "Definitely not five gallons of orange juice. I don't know what you're talking about!" Florida dashed out before he could say another word.

He merely shrugged at her strange antics. America had more important things to worry about.

After all the kids had piled onto the bus, he clambered into the driver's seat, and picked up the microphone. "Hey, bros, welcome to America's cool train! Next stop, fun town!"

He heard someone, probably New York, emit a cough that sounded suspiciously like "lame."

A little hurt, he started up the bus, traversing the terrain between D.C., where his manor was, and the piece of rural Maine the summer camp occupied. He glanced in the rearview mirror; the children were caught up in their technology and books, the outside world not entering their realm of concentration. The quiet was only interrupted by Cali's angry squeals and mutterings about "flappy birds," whatever that was.

Sighing, he returned his eyes to the road, where they would remain for several more hours. It was a maybe 10 hour drive to the camp, that's why they had started so early.

By the time they had pulled in, it was evening time, and the ragtag collection of counselors awaited them at the end of the gravel road. Many of the younger states had fallen asleep on the long drive, soon to be woken by their older siblings.

They departed the bus, without major pushing or shoving. That was an improvement. Many of the nations craned their neck to get a good view of the states, most of them had not seen America's children before.

America checked his watch. 6:30, the face read. "I've got to go into town to get a hotel room, I'm driving back in the morning. Have a fun summer, kids, don't cause too much trouble." He flashed his signature toothy grin before hugging a few of the younger states, insistent they got a hug from their papa before they go.

He waved from the bus window as they drove away. He just hoped the summer would go smoothly.

Oh, how wrong he was.


	2. Settling In

Cali watched her father pull away, rolling her eyes as some of the younger children ran after him. They were too young to know that their adoptive "father" (or at least, that's how he thought himself) found them a nuisance, and shipped them off to boarding school so he wouldn't have to deal with them.  
Well, she supposed, it'd be better if they didn't know, anyway. Shrugging, she retrieved her heavy pink duffel bag from the pile of gear unloaded from the bus.  
She turned her attention to the group of nations standing somewhat awkwardly in front of the 50 children.  
The one with the large eyebrows spoke up. "Is this all of you, then?"  
Immediately, Delaware's voice rose up. "Role call!"  
The states launched into a routine they'd been practicing their whole lives.  
"Alabama!"  
"Alaska!"  
"Arizona!"  
"Arkansas!"  
On and on they went, the nations watching, dumbfounded. Cali proclaimed her name proudly at her turn.  
With a final call of "Wyoming!" their attention returned to the heavily eyebrowed man.  
He cleared his throat. "Well, welcome to Camp Idratherbeanywherebuthere."  
A man next to him with a dark pony tail elbowed him in the side.  
The first man, evidently British, rolled his eyes, then plastered on a fake smile. "I meant, welcome to summer camp! Your father assigned you all cabins, so all the leaders will read off their camper lists now! Hungary, do you want to start?"  
A pretty brunette lady stepped forward. "Alright, I have the western girls! That's California, Oregon, Hawaii, New Mexico, Nevada, annnnd..." she squinted at the list. "Alaska!"  
The group of girls all swung their bags onto their shoulders, and followed Hungary down a densely wooded path. "The cabins are this way!" she called back to them.  
Cali grimaced at the muddy path. These were her nice flip flops. Who knows how long they'll last. She blamed Maine.  
Oregon seemed in love with the soupy ground. She pranced around like some deer in those hiking boots of hers, absolutely at home.  
Hawaii, a small tan-skinned girl young enough to be missing her front teeth, had already grasped Hungary's hand and was talking her ear off.  
Cali sighed in relief as they reached a rough wooden cabin, but that relief soon returned to horror when Hungary shepherded them inside, informing them that this was, indeed, their home for the rest of the summer.  
She almost fainted dead away. There was running water (thankfully) but almost everything was covered in an inch of dust and spiderwebs.  
Maybe she'd need to go full Cinderella on this place.  
Their counselor's voice broke the silence. "Alright, girls! Get unpacked; dinner's in an hour. If any of you need help, let me know!"  
"Need help?!" Cali shrieked. "This whole place needs help!" She frantically searched the cabin for cleaning supplies, coming up with a broom, dust rag, and disinfectant for cleaning sinks.  
She sighed. It'd have to do.  
The Californian began to work furiously, disinfecting every inch of her bunk until it shone. Nevada, who had the bunk above hers, seemed put-off by her mumblings, but Cali didn't care. She wasn't going to live in an inch of dust.  
She wiped sweat off her brow and sighed happily at her perfectly clean space. She shoved her folded clothes on a shelf near the bed, then sat impatiently on her bunk, waiting to go to dinner.  
Hungary finished making Hawaii's bunk, then called out, "Okay, girls, time to go!"  
Cali watched her siblings fall obediently into line behind the brunette and march out the door. She followed a bit behind, having exchanged her flip flops for pink Converse.  
She just hoped things didn't get worse.

Massachusetts watched as the western girls marched after Hungary and as, one by one, the other cabins followed suit.  
He watched the thick eyebrowed man (Who had introduced himself as England, much to his distaste) read off his cabin group, the northeastern boys.  
"Lets see... I've got the north east/New England." He rolled his eyes. "Delaware, Pennsylvania, New York, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire."  
Oh God. He had to be with England.  
Memories of a rough history with the northern nation came back to him; war and mistrust, uprisings and downfalls.  
He shrugged it off, however, their nations were supposed to be on good terms. Even America had forgiven him, so that was something.  
Yet, he couldn't help but hold a grudge. All that violence... Massachusetts frowned.  
Not wanting to disappoint his father, however, he followed obediently to the cabin, and quietly began to unpack his bag.  
New York was acting somewhat suspicious in the corner, but that wasn't really any different than always. He had probably smuggled energy drinks (which were normally contraband in their household.) He and his brothers had a pact not to rat on eachother, and England seemed to not have noticed. It was best to let sleeping dogs lie.  
He stared at the ceiling above him, which was coated with graffiti; names, years, young loves. Massachusetts sighed.  
"Hey, 'Setts."  
He glanced over the railing of his bunk. "Hmm."  
It was Pennsylvania. "You look down. This'll brighten you up," he said in a light Philly accent. He tossed up a small wrapped chocolate; he had always had a fondness for them.  
Massachusetts smiled at the small gesture. "Thanks, man."  
"Anytime." Pennsylvania ducked back into his bunk again.  
England interrupted the quiet hum of the busy cabin. "Alright, men. Time for dinner. Let's march!"  
He jumped out of his bed. He was starving.  
Massachusetts just hoped dinner wouldn't be a disaster.


End file.
